


The Lotus Blooms Twice

by Bishoukun



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26963101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bishoukun/pseuds/Bishoukun
Summary: A fusion of ideas and characters new and old with a story that emerges as I write it!This came out of NOWHERE. I haven't written in five months because of IRL drama and chaos, and then my muses decided they wanted to start an AU of their inspiration source. So, here we are - a fantasy historical alternate version of YGO.There are original characters and OC relationships, and some overlap with canon that will make a few things here and there feel familiar without being just a reread.I hope you enjoy my characters, dragons and humans alike, and I can't wait to see where this story goes!
Kudos: 2





	1. A Beginning Far from Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shai is a passionate, and sometimes impulsive, Obsidian Drake with a love of exploration and adventure. His mate, Nakht, is a Storm Racer who flickers like white lightning through the dark clouds of a tempest. They're an unusual pair - two very different breeds of dragon with very different cultures, both of whom have intentionally disavowed most of those very traditions.
> 
> They're hiding from something, or someone, and can't freely embrace their natural forms. But what do they do when they've found themselves the sole potential guardians of a baby human girl?

Energy crackles in the air against her skin as the wind begins to pick up. A storm is coming, humming with untamed power as it rises, devouring the southern horizon as it encroaches the mountaintops. From where she stands, on the edge of a cliff about to be consumed by dark mist, she can see the valley and forest below; leaves and branches trembling at the strength of the oncoming storm, grass swaying to and fro in desperate waves as if to catch hold of the wind and fly away. Her heart aches, pulsing painfully in her chest with each ripple of energy that passes through her slender body. She belongs in the sky, in the dark clouds, wings spread among the lightning, hail, and wind. The storm tugs at her hair, long white strands wisping over her shoulder, calling out to her, beckoning. She closes her eyes.

Shai's warm hand presses into the center of her back, and then she can feel his heat grazing the skin on her left side. A moment later, his head is nestled against her shoulder, pressed gently into her neck, and her shoulders begin to relax. It is no less painful to be kept from the skies which call to her soul, but it is comforting to be reminded that she is not facing such pain alone. Her eyes open as a gust of wind pulls his braid to join the wisps of her own hair, bracing the black plait with tendrils of delicate white.

She feels the start of vibration from Shai's chest as he goes to speak, but no sound makes it to his lips. Both of them still, focus entirely redirected to the shrill cry that climbs over the growing roar of the wind. There is movement in the forest. Humans, running through the trees in chaotic twists and rushed turns. Four, five - six. Six pursuers, chasing after one holding a wrapped bundle against their chest. There is blood soaking through the chased one's clothes, and each step is more unsteady than the one before.

There is no village nearby, nor any major roads. There is nobody else to answer her shrieks of pain and panic, her pleas for help. Even were someone to intervene, the trail of blood behind her reveals her fatality. This woman's life cannot be saved.

Without a word, without a moment's hesitation, Shai is gone. He cuts down the six men with cold efficiency and speed that the humans cannot perceive in time to react to. Two, three, four. As he reaches the fifth, the woman stumbles over a knot rising from the ground, and the final pursuer reaches her. This woman's life cannot be saved. It is not for the life of the woman that drives her to move.

She is faster than Shai, and the final man drops to the forest floor lifelessly just as the drake makes his fifth kill. Standing over the fallen woman as the first blanket of rain draws its curtains, she realizes what treasure is held so tightly. Curled on her side, mud sticking to her hair and face, the human looks up with wide, blue eyes. It was never for her own life that she had begged aid for, and the weak, muffled cries tell as much of the story as they need to know.

Kneeling beside the woman on one knee, the drakaina extends her hand, brushing smooth fingertips over the woman's cold cheek where it has flushed against the pale pallor. She watches as the woman's body begins to lax, grey fear fading from her eyes. There is no protest as she pulls open the soaked fabric to expose the infant's face, her cries clear and feather-light. The surprise must register on her face momentarily, as the woman grasps her hand tightly, and with the last of her strength, says: "Please."

Shai approaches in near silence, kneeling opposite the drakaina and placing his hand over the human woman's. When her eyes shift to him, she sees a soft and gentle expression, the slightest pained smile on his lips. Her hand is warm, then her arm, and soon her whole body is filled with soothing warmth, and she knows. She understands, and, as she watches the child lifted from her and held with care, her resolve begins to fade. Shai's hand moves slowly through her hair, maintaining the comfortable warmth even as her breath eases away, and her eyes close for the last time.

Even before anything can be said, Shai is aware of the situation he has put them in, and the choice he now forces them to make. Again, his hot-hotheadedness has put the older dragon into a difficult, or at least unpleasant, situation. He watches her carefully, waiting for an indication of her response as she looks to the human infant held against her breast. The child's cries have quieted, now more erratic whines that blend into the groaning of the trees.

Her face gives away nothing; her wings unfurl from her back, stretched sharp, and then she is in the air. Keeping his eyes on her, the drake follows suit, riding the rush of lift along the side of the mountain and up to their shelter. He steps to the mouth of the cave first, anxious to see the white wings hovering just under the darkness of the clouds. This is it, the decision he has forced her to make.

Lightning shoots across the clouds and down through the drakaina, creating a blinding light that forces Shai to shield his eyes. As the thunder cracks through the mountain, he's barely able to make out her shape landing gracefully on the cliff's edge. To his surprise, the human babe is still in her arms, and is quiet. He steps aside to allow her entry first and then follows her into the dry warmth of the cave.

She sits in their quilted nook by the fire, not bothering to adjust the furs as she looks up from the child to meet his eyes, completely lacking in malice or anger. Briefly warding the entrance from the storm that has begun to rage in full force, Shai steps over to sit beside the drakaina. To his great relief, her hand is on his skin the moment he's close enough to touch, her fingers light and gentle against the side of his neck.

"You both must rest," she says in a wise tone. "Come."

He knows there is no arguing or resisting her commands, and so he wraps his arms around her with a smile, guiding her down onto the furs with him. Her eyes close as Shai rests his forehead against hers. Warmth, relief, and exhaustion in equal measure lead them into a restful sleep, each secured by the presence of the other. Just before sleep claims her, the drakaina wraps one arm tightly around Shai, and whispers above the soothing crackles of the fire.

"Kisara."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what started the story that's going to follow; I found the start to this prologue as a years-old drabble, rewrote it, and just kept writing.
> 
> If you like this, please leave a kudos, a comment, and consider buying me a ko-fi!  
> https://ko-fi.com/bishoukun


	2. String Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has begun, and nobody is quite sure exactly what; even the drake who fell from the sky has no information to share. Could this be the reason why a thief's wife has been led to the capitol or is there another overlapping circumstance that's unfolding? Family conflicts aren't a royal exclusive, after all.

When there are shouts of a pair of men fighting in the sky, almost everyone rushes outside to see for themselves. Sure enough, there is a man with a bright green glow enlarging his form, but as the king discerns the second figure from the night sky, he does not see a second man. He thinks there must be powerful magic in place for most of the people around him not to see such a large creature, for the blast of energy that it fires from its mouth to seem as though he is merely casting a spell. He looks over his shoulder, and sees the same knowing looks from Mahad and Seth; he is not the only one to see the true battle taking place.

There's a piercing shriek that rattles the ground, and Atem looks back just in time to see an ethereal blade slicing through the dragon's shoulder and into its wing. A moment later, it begins to fall, and among the gasps of shock and alarm are footsteps. Mana rushes off toward the guard tower beyond the courtyard and he doesn't hesitate to follow her, even with his friend's warning tone from behind them.

"We have to help," Mana exclaims in way of explanation as she pulls the reigns from a startled guard. She glances back just long enough to see she isn't about to embark alone before swinging up onto the borrowed horse and breaking immediately into a gallop toward the falling figure in the distance.

"We have no context for what's just happened," Atem reminds her as he follows close behind, looking to where he had seen the dragon just a moment before. There's nothing there, but when the ground shakes enough for his horse to rear up, he understands why. He steadies his mount and presses to keep up with Mana toward the rising plume of dust.

They slow as the dark figure comes into sight, contrasting against the sand. Now he sees him - the man that the others must have been seeing before - bare and bleeding. Catching Mana's arm as she dismounts, he gives her a serious look. "You're being very reckless."

"Is that to imply that you are not?"

Atem turns to see Seth and Mahad arriving behind them, and in spite of the tension, he smiles. There's something refreshing about the way Seth addresses him when they're so far detached from the politics of the palace. "I never said that."

"Then you know you could get yourself killed? We've no idea what this is," the taller man points out.

"Well, he seemed an awful lot like a dragon," the king rebuts as he dismounts and releases Mana and walks toward the injured creature. He hears Mahad sigh and interrupt Seth's reply, but his attention has shifted. A few paces from him is a dragon in the shape of a man, bleeding badly and struggling to breathe. Untying the outermost cloth linen from his waist, he kneels and presses it to the wounded shoulder.

Shai grimaces but does not try to move. The foreign magic feels like an acidic poison in his blood, constricting and trying to break him. A warmth settles over his abdomen, and he opens his eyes to observe the humans beside him. They thrum with power, but the deepest resonance comes from the man still approaching. A priest, he deduces, sits across from the royal and places his hands over him. In counterpoint to the girl's directed attempt at mending, the priest's energy is cool and with only guided intent, leaving his body to redirect where it is needed most. Wisdom and power rarely go together, and it seems he has found one of those rare instances.

"You aren't wrong," he finally says, drawing the violet eyes to meet his directly. Brave, if not entirely foolish, or perhaps keenly intuitive and insightful. Perhaps, Shai wonders in consideration of the mage to his other side, it is both. He can see now that the rare combination may be more than coincidence; there is a restrained power bound not by seals, but by will alone - likely because it would be too much to control enough even to cast or hold a spell to bind it. This is a dangerous person, albeit a good-willed one.

"I hadn't expected to survive that strike for long," Shai comments, somewhat forcing his voice through the pain. "It's starting to look like I might after all. I will need help to overcome this bloody curse, however, if I'm to have a chance at ever taking to the air again."

"What can we do to help?" Atem asks before Seth has the opportunity to question whether or not they should, feeling a hopeful pulse of energy from Mana beside him.

"This form is no illusion, unlike the one he shielded himself with earlier," Mahad points out. "Am I correct in thinking that means there is great risk for you to attempt a full recovery as such?" The dragon's red eyes move to him, and after a moment of surprised pause, he smiles.

"That's exactly right, mage."

"Why, though? Even if your form has changed, shouldn't healing still be... well, healing?" Mana asks, looking to all three of them in turn. When her gaze falls to Atem, he speaks.

"His wings," the king points out. "He has no way to control their healing like this."

"Then this fourth magic is forcing you to stay shaped like a human," Mana deduces in a somewhat horrified tone. "Why were you attacked like that? Who were you fighting?"

"That's indeed the question of the hour," Shai says weakly, looking to the mage priest again. "You'll need to release those seals if I'm to access enough power to change form." He watches the momentary shock from the humans around him in distant amusement before the mage nods. While he's still got enough strength to keep a present mind, Shai can feel it still rapidly fading and knows there is only one shot at this.

It's really quite something to see the sand and wind move with decreasing subtlety as the sorcerer releases the locks withholding his power, and he almost doesn't notice the younger two step back toward their would-be keeper and horses. His life is entirely in the hands of a single human man. Shai takes a slow breath as the final seal is undone. Drawing the raw energy into himself, he takes hold of and shapes it, overwhelming his assailant's spell with as much finesse as he can manage. It isn't enough.

There is only one chance he will have to do this, and even if the curse cannot be broken, it will bend under the combined strength of his will and the mage's power. He forces his body with the singular goal of returning to his original form, pushing through the blinding pain until there is stillness.

* * *

There's an eerie silence among the group as they watch the creature fall from the sky in mixed disbelief and dread. Something about what they have just seen registers a distant panic - an unrecognized familiarity that refuses to be ignored through reason. Bakura nearly jumps when he hears his friend harshly call his attention.

"What?"

"You planning to share what the fuck we just saw was?" Malik demands in startled frustration. "You looked like you were about to pass out."

"I don't know wha-"

"Bullshit," he counters, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why else would you react like that if you don't know what it was?"

"I don't know," Bakura repeats in a firm staccato. "You know me better than to keep something like that from the group," he says, gesturing to the sky. "So unless you think I've suddenly changed allegiance, push on something else." 

For another moment, Malik holds his position and then seems to collapse against the wall of the house. Nobody is willing to challenge him after such a decisive statement, but that leaves them without answers where they were hoping to find them. He realizes looking over them that some are more confused than others, and the divide is clearly one of magical inclination; those who naturally tend to understand or at least feel it are far paler and more alarmed than the rest.

Most of the people around him have no idea what Malik was actually asking about or why his own response was as harsh as it was.

There's a tap on his arm just before a sound not unlike the sound of the falling creature before echoes over them and has people flinching around them. Ahmose follows his eyes before signing carefully, shielding the movement of her hands from most of their group.

'That must have something to do with my dreams - with why we're in the city to begin with.'

'Do you understand what it was we saw?' Malik signs in reply beside him, sighing when the girl shakes her head.

'Only the things you'll have already pieced together.'

'Like the illusion,' Bakura confirms.

'It isn't what we saw that has my attention, though,' she continues, pausing briefly at the two confused stares before catching movement to her right.

'There were three very powerful magics all at once that second time,' the younger boy relays to her surprise. Neither her husband nor his best friend catches the full statement. It takes her a moment to remind herself that she's seen for herself the proof that this boy, for all his similarities, is too different from her cousin to be him. He's too gentle, for a start.

"Ahmose?" Bakura prompts her quietly, patient even with something so bizarre taking place.

'I recognized the other two,' she explains after repeating what the youngest of the boys had said. 'Guessing by the way they had been woven together like that, they're allying themselves with that dragon, and will probably be housing it.'

'And you want to go there? Wherever those two mages are?' Malik asks, hesitating on how to describe whomever such powerful magic would belong to.

'I think only a handful of us should go to avoid the kind of suspicion or blockade a group like ours would bring.' She looks over her shoulder, meeting the gaze of several others waiting for some kind of reassurance or direction from their leader, and she knows they're in a strategical nightmare if they leave the group without either their primary or secondary leaders - without the two men in front of her to protect them with their tactical might or naturally powerful magic. Already she can see the shared concern at the suggestion from Bakura, but without an immediate denial, she makes one final push. Tapping his arm when she sees a distance to his brown eyes even when he's looking forward, she motions to the boy sitting quietly against the wall opposite Malik.

'Let him take point while the three of us go,' she implores, grabbing his hand so that he's forced either to wait or to answer her aloud. It's a risk that he'll simply shut down the idea without feeling constrained to their conversation enough to pause, but he doesn't. Malik does.

"He's still just a kid," he points out, almost glaring at how she's disabled his friend from giving a private answer.

"I agree," the boy adds in a startled tone.

Her eyes don't move from Bakura's until she sees him decide. She goes to release his hand to allow him an answer only to find he's now taken hers.

"Few of us are 'just kids' here," he states, looking at Malik to cut him off before he tries to object. "Next to her, that one's the most intrinsically observant, and he's more than smart enough to know how to handle things if a situation arises that demands it. Push comes to shove, I don't think he'll hesitate if he thinks there are lives at risk."

It's a lot to say out loud, and with no effort toward discretion, and the surrounding members of their group clearly hear and understand what's being discussed. Exactly because there's now no containing the idea, the three of them understand what Bakura has done; he's cornered them and pinned the idea beyond argument, even were their logic to be sound.

Ahmose watches the way Malik processes what just happened and smiles when she sees the grip on his forearms release. She knows it's not her that's making this decision, but a warmth still rises in her chest to see how far he's willing to trust his friend. The man hates gambling unless he either has factual reason to think he'll win or Bakura has clearly indicated his own confident choice. He'll bet everything on the latter without regard to how or why that confidence is present.

"So, what's the plan, then?"

"We set up camp outside the city and only send people in when necessary," Bakura answers.

"Outside the city? I don't know of anywhere nearby that would make sense to shelter everyone," the younger boy says as quietly as he can manage.

"We do."

"No," Malik says in a hard tone. "Absolutely no-"

"What we just saw is more than reason enough to assume the worst could happen," Bakura cuts into the objection somewhat pointedly. "We take them there."

Ahmose looks between the two, taken aback by the ferocity with which Malik had spoken, and remains still until his expression changes from hostility to something far more somber, reaching her free hand out to him. She nearly sighs in relief when he doesn't push away from her, instead lightly tracing the back of her palm.

"Okay. I'll keep eyes here in the city," he concedes softly. "Where are we headed to?"

She moves her hand against his cheek before pulling back to answer so all three of them can see: 'The Palace.'

* * *

Shai comes to, vaguely attentive of the subtle bouncing of a trotting horse. The warmth is more notable, and far more soothing, and he can feel that at the very least his form is natural even if his size and strength remain restrained. This is dreadfully interesting, as much as it is a relief that he'll have some further shelter in such a state, and as much as he knows he needs to find his daughter.

"Do you think we'll be at risk?" Shai hears the younger of the two priests ask.

"Only if someone realizes what's happened," the mage replies, "or if by chance."

"The spells already in place don't need my master to be actively maintaining them," Mana points out. She glances to the resting dragon carefully wrapped over her legs, keeping one gentle hand on its back. "Unless someone was already going to try something, we'll be fine. It won't take long before he's back at full strength again, anyway. Right?"

"That doesn't mean we should be any less cautious," Mahad warns. "I would advise having the prince on alert, seeing as there are things taking place around us that we can't predict."

"Do you think that's wise?" Seth questions. "He's tried to kill you once before already."

"He was a child," Atem and Mahad point out in unison, with the king continuing. "A grieving one, at that. He's nothing against Mahad now."

"You're certain?"

"Very. He apologized quite some time ago."

"You'd know that if you actually paid him any attention," Mana says with far more bite than she intends to, immediately looking away as she feels all three men look to her. "Sorry."

"You beat me to it," Atem remarks calmly. "Keeping him at arm's length isn't beneficial to anyone at this point. You need to learn how to trust him."

"You say that as though nothing happened. He's still dangerous."

"So are we," he counters, letting the argument rest when he sees the building tension in Seth's body. Pushing too hard would only push in the wrong direction, so he shifts the topic. "I'll tell him. You should track down Netia to inform her as well, she may have some wisdom on what's going on."

"Right," Seth answers, letting some of the tension fade. "I would rather not deal with her granddaughter, however."

"Don't be such a child," Mahad scolds.

"You speak with her, then," Seth shoots back with a glare. To his disappointment, the mage looks unimpressed. When he looks ahead of them, he finds a small group of servants and guards waiting orderly for them, with the woman in front inspiring a deeply unsettling feeling under his skin.

Netia.

"Welcome back, my King, my Lords, my Lady." She greets them as the men dismount, a graceful light bow guiding her head low in deference. There is no disguising what rush must have been made for her to make an appearance; her dark brown hair, normally held in tight pleats when she is before any of the court, is tied with gold strands into a twist that falls over her right shoulder. Her face is still stunningly made up, lips painted with a shimmering gold that brings light to her cheeks and contrasts with the dark blue of her eyes.

"It appears you were right," Atem comments to Mahad as he approaches the small woman before he places a hand on her bare shoulder. "You are a welcome sight, Netia."

"I am glad." Lifting her head, her eyes track down the creature in Mana's lap, studying it for a moment before she meets the familiar violet. "I've arranged for one of my chambers to be set aside for his care and comfort. I'm certain that waking to a friend will be a pleasant surprise."

"You know him, then."

"I do. It is a relief to me that he survives yet," she says.

"Good to know we're on the right side," Atem replies, half-joking. He doesn't turn away from her even when his next words are to the priest passing behind him; he doesn't intend for the man to escape, and now that there's an audience, there won't be any argument about it further. "Seth, inform Dekarei of what's transpired."

He hears the pause and doesn't need to guess that he's on the receiving end of a serious glare, but the man proves him right when he utters an acquiescence before walking inside. Most of their observers remain unaware of the manipulation, and the few that caught it are either unsurprised or condone it, Netia included. Where she falls on that spectrum, however, is something unknown to him even with every detail of her face in clear sight. There's a mastery of neutrality that usurps even his own.

Silence when Atem and Mana are within arm's reach of one another is exceedingly rare, to the point where the accompanying servants and guards are somewhat visibly unsettled by the unusual demeanor. Nothing in their body language suggests any manner of severity, and yet calm and quiet dominate the air as they escort their refugee to the royal apartment gifted for Netia's use. When they are dismissed in the entrance of the first room, there's a moment where some of them hesitate; Mana's smile is enough to reassure them that whatever is going on, it isn't something that they should be anxious about.

Netia takes point, guiding the remaining two into a lounge that has been arranged with a chaise near the balcony, covered in pillows. She watches as Mana carefully sets the wounded dragon down, waiting for her to return to the king's side before she speaks.

"His name is Shai," she informs. "I crossed paths with him and his mate when I was a small girl. Do you recall the spell that binds my life to that of another, as though we are each reflections in the mirror of the other?"

"Of course, but you've never spoken of that with any warmth. How did he influence that?"

"It was once so strong that our very souls were connected, not unlike those of true twins. We could feel each others hearts. Shai stripped away what he could of that curse, protecting the futures of myself and," she pauses, despair flashing briefly through her mask before she can breathe it away. "And of my children."

"You opposite is just that, if I remember correctly?" Atem looks over the creature thoughtfully when she nods. "I can only imagine how someone so loving would have suffered to feel the pervasions of such a cruel woman when being bound to her life is already unspeakably difficult."

"Did he just... see you and decide to help on a whim?" Mana asks, a combination of confused and curious.

"No, actually. It was in no small part because helping me would be granting me freedom, something which is precious to him, from those aligned with the men who had tried to enslave him." Netia finally sits on the edge of the chaise, tracing one of Shai's wings with a featherlight touch. "They were going to ground him when they realized that his will would be broken in no other way. I wish I had done more then, to be able to say that I was in some part responsible for his escape. His mate destroyed the binding seals that had been carved into the earth around him."

"Do you think they'll find him again here?"

"She did the first time."

Mana looks to her friend beside her, watching with visible concern as the information sinks in. There was no need to guess from the woman's tone that the first thought to cross was indeed the case, and it was a terrible thought. Already there was a darkness in his history, one that he finds himself often responsible for although he was in no way compliant with any of it. She lets another moment pass before wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Well, he's safe here now, isn't he?" She provides, looking to the older woman in a silent plea. Warm blue eyes look back.

"Yes," Netia answers, feeling the distressed crackling of energy in the air, and motioning the two forward. As soon as they are within reach, she lifts her hand and places her palm on her nephew's cheek, instantly drawing his focus. "You mustn't allow the past deeds of others to steal away what gentleness your heart can hold; the spirits of the past gain nothing from it, and we've only each so much softness between the fire and ice which passion inspires so readily. Shelter that kindness so that it may be shown to before you who will need it the most."

"She's right," Mana says, growing in confidence as she speaks. "You would be furious if someone whom you'd never even met showered you with pity. I'd even go so far as to say you might accuse them of being selfish for pushing themselves into a story they hadn't helped to write." For a moment, the stunned expression she receives makes her wonder if she's gone too far, but the distance is gone from his eyes.

"Are you calling me selfish?"

"Only if you base your actions on something that had nothing to do with you," she replies without hesitation, hearing the undertone of amusement in his voice. A smile forms on her face as she hears Netia laugh softly.

"I am thankful for you, Mana. I can rest at night knowing that this child is well looked after." The woman places a kiss to each of their foreheads, noting the dissipation of the energy that had been starting to build. "You should go and rest; there will be more information come sunrise, and it isn't so crucial yet to wait for each development of the story as it unfolds."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these moments were unspeakably funny to write, and I'm excited to see just how much the next chapter will or won't reveal. One thing is certain: Atem is a King, and has all the necessary sass and cunning to get things done the way he wants them to be done; family is not excluded.
> 
> If you like this, please leave a kudos, a comment, and consider buying me a ko-fi!  
> https://ko-fi.com/bishoukun


End file.
